


Identity Crisis

by TheGreatCatsby



Category: Avengers (Comics), Hawkeye (Comics), Marvel (Comics), Marvel 616, X-Men (Comicverse)
Genre: Hydra (Marvel), hydra facilities in terrible places
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-06
Updated: 2015-01-06
Packaged: 2018-03-06 10:34:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,074
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3131384
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheGreatCatsby/pseuds/TheGreatCatsby
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Then who is Clint Barton? Why is he wearing sunglasses indoors?”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Identity Crisis

**Author's Note:**

> So on Gambit's marvel wiki page it lists one of his aliases as Clint Barton. I have no idea why, so I wrote this fic. Enjoy!

The Hydra facility had stayed hidden underneath London's Oxford Circus for half a century. And then Wolverine told Remy that there was a facility in the center of London that actually existed, and they had some sensitive data there that Remy needed to bring back to the X-Men with minimal trouble. 

“Lots of innocents in the area,” Logan had told him. “Even if you hit it in the middle of the night. So no explosions.” 

“You know me,” Remy said. “I'm the best thief in the world. Ain't no need for that.” 

“I know you,” Logan said, “and I know you're cocky as all get-out. You love to leave a mess.” 

“You wound me.” 

“And,” Logan added, tossing Remy the mission file, “if they do catch you, don't tell 'em you're a mutant. Cover your eyes. In fact, don't give them your name at all.” 

“Then who's name am I supposed ta give 'em?” 

“Figure something out. Better yet, don't get caught.” 

*

Getting into the Hydra facility was like taking a walk in the park. In fact, Remy had strolled from North London through Regents Park as the sun rose and ended up in Oxford Circus just as the first tourists were starting to mill around looking for breakfast. 

He found the wing where the data was kept. He had a thumb drive with which he was meant to take the data from one of the computers and then purge the information from Hydra's files. He was waiting for the process to finish when the door to the room he was in slammed open. 

He turned, hands in the air. 

“Who the hell are you?” one of the two Hydra agents pointing guns at him barked. 

Remy thought about a fake name for someone who'd be in a Hydra base but wasn't an X-Man and also wasn't a mutant. The last person he'd worked with who was neither of those things was--

“Clint Barton.” 

“Do you have an ID?” the agent asked. 

“I don't need an ID,” Remy snapped. “I'm Clint Fucking Barton.” 

“I don't know that name,” the other Hydra agent said. 

The one who'd yelled at Remy said, “I thought he was Hawkeye?” 

“Our files have Hawkeye down as a young woman named Kate Bishop.” 

“Then who is Clint Barton? Why is he wearing sunglasses indoors?” 

As they argued, Remy pulled the now ready USB drive from the computer and slipped it into a hiding place in his suit. 

“Excuse me, mes amis,” he said. Both agents glared at him. “But I see here that you have some pretty dangerous information about altering mutant genes and I'm gonna have ta make sure that don't get out ta anymore people.” 

“Shoot him?” the first Hydra agent asked. 

“Shoot him,” the second agreed. 

They opened fire and Remy threw himself on the ground, allowing the bullets to spray the computer monitors. A screeching alarm sounded and one of the agents hissed, “Shit!”

“What's that?” Remy asked, but the two agents turned and ran. 

Remy glanced at the monitors and saw that all of them were showing a countdown. 52 seconds and counting. 

“This don't look good,” he muttered to himself, and he ran out the way he'd come in. 

He emerged near one of the underground station entrances just in time to hear a muffled explosion and feel the ground shake so hard that he nearly fell on the sidewalk. Several tourists looked around in shock. A hole opened up in the intersection of Oxford Circus. Smoke poured out, and several people ran away screaming. 

Remy walked up to the edge of the hole and ran a hand through his hair. “Merde.” 

*

“Hawkeye, you made the morning news.” 

“What?” 

Clint clambered over from the kitchen to the couch, trying not to spill his coffee as he plopped down next to Kate and squinted at the television. 

A news anchor was standing in front of the smoking hole that now made up Oxford Circus, and was saying, “I am reporting live from London, where an explosion rocked Oxford Circus in the early hours of the morning. Luckily, many people were still in bed, but a few were there to witness what they described as a terrible wake-up call.” 

The camera cut to a dazed-looking man talking about how he hadn't even had his morning cup of coffee yet. 

“Wait for it,” Kate said. 

The anchorwoman came back, and standing next to her was a familiar man wearing sunglasses. 

“Is that Gambit?” Clint asked, squinting harder. 

“Wait for it,” Kate said. 

“Fortunately for the citizens of London, this explosion was not an act of terrorism, but rather the result of a mission gone wrong,” the anchorwoman said. “Here with me is Clint Barton--”

“WHAT!” Clint cried, jumping up and spilling coffee all over the place. Lucky the Pizza-Now-Coffee Dog, trotted over and began licking it off the floor. 

“--Mr. Barton, you say you were tasked with gathering information from a top secret Hydra facility located in the center of London?” 

“That's right, cherie,” Gambit drawled. “I didn't mean for there ta be such a mess but the agents got a little jumpy after seeing me. They were none too happy having their facility discovered. But I'd still say it was a success. Got the information delivered ta my bosses, and the facility was destroyed.” 

“The reassuring truth from SHIELD agent Clint Barton,” the anchorwoman said to the camera. “A Hydra facility right under our noses, destroyed today thanks to his efforts. Do you have anything to add, Mr. Barton?” 

The camera closed in on Remy's face. “I'm sorry for all the damage and traffic this'll cause,” he said. “But I want the world ta know: No one messes with Clint Barton.” 

“You okay, Clint?” Kate asked. 

Clint was still standing in front of the television, jaw dropped. “He—he blew my cover.” 

“You didn't have much of one to begin with.” 

“I'm a spy,” Clint insisted. 

“And people still don't know who you are. Now they think you're Gambit, who's way cooler.” Kate leaned back and tilted her head to grin up at Clint. “Face it, Hawkeye, this is the best thing that's ever happened to your image.” 

Clint sank onto the couch and buried his head in his hands. Lucky sat up and began nudging his arm. 

“Why would they believe Gambit is me?” he moaned. 

“Because,” Kate said, “no one knows who you are.”


End file.
